sieur Lebigre, who usually
observed complete silence. He was rather pale, and looked at Logre, who
was gently rubbing his hump against the partition.

"That's mere imagination," murmured the hunchback.

"Very well; call it imagination, if you like," replied the tutor; "but
I know how these things are arranged. At all events, I don't mean to
let the 'coppers' nab me this time. You others, of course, will please
yourselves, but if you take my advice--and you especially, Monsieur
Lebigre--you'll take care not to let your establishment be compromised,
or the authorities will close it."

At this Logre could not restrain a smile. On several subsequent
occasions Charvet plied him and Lebigre with similar arguments, as
though he wished to detach them from Florent's project by frightening
them; and he was much surprised at the calmness and confidence which
they both continued to manifest. For his own part, he still came pretty
regularly in the evening with Clemence. The tall brunette was no longer
a clerk at the fish auctions--Monsieur Manoury had discharged her.

"Those salesmen are all scoundrels!" Logre growled, when he heard of her
dismissal.

Thereupon Clemence, who, lolling back against the partition, was rolling
a cigarette between her long, slim fingers, replied in a sharp voice:
"Oh, it's fair fighting! We don't hold the same political views, you
know. That fellow Manoury, who's making no end of money, would lick the
Emperor's boots. For my part, if I were an auctioneer, I wouldn't keep
him in my service for an hour."

The truth was that she had been indulging in some clumsy pleasantry,
amusing herself one day by inscribing in the sale-book, alongside of the
dabs and skate and mackerel sold by auction, the names of some of the
best-known ladies and gentlemen of the Court. This bestowal of piscine
names upon high dignitaries, these entries of the sale of duchesses
and baronesses at thirty sous apiece, had caused Monsieur Manoury much
alarm. Gavard was still laughing over it.

"Well, never mind!" said he, patting Clemence's arm; "you are every inch
a man, you are!"

Clemence had discovered a new method of mixing her grog. She began by
filling her glass with hot water; and after adding some sugar she poured
the rum drop by drop upon the slice of lemon floating on the surface,
in such wise that it did not mix with the water. Then she lighted it and
with a grave expression watched it blaze, slowly smoking her cigare